


Just a bit.

by leucocrystal



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: AU, Beach House, F/M, Gift Fic, POV Female Character, Post-Season/Series 02, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-16
Updated: 2006-09-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 12:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3936064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leucocrystal/pseuds/leucocrystal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is not happening in a <i>supermarket</i>.  With actual <i>background music</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a bit.

***  *  *  *  ***

 

_So Logan doesn't snore, but if she really wanted to leave, she could._

_She wouldn't need any extra noise to cover a quick escape, and it worries her a bit that she knows that without trying.  She could just carefully ease her way out of his arms, pull her clothes back on and slip quietly out the door.  She stares at him, watching the way the stray tufts of her hair flutter across the pillow as he breathes, and hates herself for the brief moment she even considered it._

_She blames several things for softening her this way.  It's a little to do with some apples, a ballpoint pen, and her father, for using up the last carton of milk this morning._  
  
Mostly though, she blames this on The Temptations. 

 

She's sure he knows she's here by now; he's squared his shoulders, his posture's gotten a little more taut in the joints, and he's concentrating a bit too hard on the Granny Smiths.

Apples, of course.  She's lost count of how many times she's seen him eating them.  "What?" he'd asked once, when he'd caught her staring and smiling at him with one.  "Nothing," she'd said, just smiling wider.

Of course, that was a long time ago.

Right now, she's standing rigidly in the middle of the supermarket, a little over a week before college officially starts, after coming to a startled stop directly across from none other than Logan Echolls.

There's a stand full of produce and a bit of floor space between them at the moment.  Well, that and a few summer months of her carefully avoiding doing exactly this.  She supposes the only reason she assumed the supermarket would be safe is because she can't ever remember seeing him in one.

She watches as he picks out an apple, and she tells herself she will _not_ look at his mouth.

"Been a while," he says suddenly without looking at her, and she almost drops the cartons of milk she's carrying.  She's internally battling between being annoyed that he's even here, despite the fact that he has every right to be, and wanting to bolt out the automatic sliding doors.

It has been a while.  A little over eleven weeks, probably, though it’s not as if she's counting or anything.  School's about to start; that's why she knows.  Yeah.

"Hey," she says quietly, because she honestly can't think of anything else.  He kind of nods in her general direction, but still doesn't look up.  She thinks her legs have apparently chosen the worst possible moment to rebel against her brain, because she takes a few more steps towards him, until there are just apples, pears and a plastic partition between them.

She misses more than she ever thought she would.  Touching him accidentally-on-purpose, the angle at which her neck cranes to look up at him, the softness of his hair through her fingers against the back of his neck, the strong and steady feel of him beside her.  Even things that used to annoy her, like the obnoxious way he sits in class, one foot hooked up on the desktop, the sarcastic comments he likes to bark at commercials, and the way he takes off too fast when he first hits the accelerator in his car.

The silence is starting to stretch tensely thin now, and when he finally catches her eye across the stacks of pears, she hides it too well.

"So.  What brings you here?" she asks with forced nonchalance, as if she has an actual reason to be standing here.  She sees some maraschino cherries on display to the right of the oranges, and they're in season, so she figures that’s a good enough excuse.  They're playing the Eurythmics over the speakers, fuzzy and soft in the background.

"Taking a chance on a crazy whim, I decided to venture out into the general public and buy some actual food," he offers, making a funny sort of _The hell?_ face at the oddly shaped apple he's holding before putting it back and choosing another.  "I figured I may as well figure out where it actually comes from before I form a dependence on college vending machines."

He's being so… _Logan_ about this.  It's comforting and obnoxious at the same time.  Which is pretty much Logan in a nutshell, so, it figures, she thinks.  She smiles to herself, though, remembering she also misses his sense of humor.

"How are you liking the new place?" she offers, sticking to safe topics while scrutinizing the bag of cherries she's picked out.

He smiles, amused, watching her pucker her face together at them.  "It's nice.  Not big, but I’ve never been a fan of houses you can get lost in."

"You grew up in one," she points out.

"My point exactly."

This is good, she thinks.  At least no one's yelling.  So maybe his smile doesn't really meet his eyes, but she is _not_ going to go over the reasons for that right now.  The cherries seem ripe.  Whatever, good, fine.

"Figures you'd choose the place voted Most Likely To Plummet Into The Pacific Ocean At A Moment's Notice, as opposed to something any sane person would go for," she teases, but she realizes too late that any sort of joke involving "plummeting" and "into the ocean" is probably not in either of their best interests right now.

"Well, they had the blue ribbon from the county right there on the front door, and who could resist a selling point like that?" he jokes back, and if she didn't know him so well, she'd think he's just laughing it off.  She doesn't miss the slight warning tone in his voice, though, and she knows it's implying that if she keeps this horribly awkward ball rolling, he'll have no choice but to chuck a melon at her.

"Logan," she says before she can think how to finish, a note of apology in her voice, but he stops her with a look.

"I like the view," he says quietly, his face softening as he looks down again.

She feels like the worst person on the planet for about three seconds, but then reminds herself that it’s probably her guilt for even making the joke that bothers Logan more than anything else.

She's about to blurt out something completely irrational about wanting to maybe see it sometime, when a nasally cashier's voice cuts through the chorus.  "Kevin to register five.  Price check on fabric softener, register five."

She sighs softly to herself, but the initial impulse has passed by now.  She's probably taken complete leave of her sanity, almost saying something like that.  Actually out loud, in public.  She looks back up at him, and he's smiling at her again, which is, you know, nice.

"What?" she says, defensively, but she's probably smiling a little, too.

"Nothing," he says, looking down and popping a ballpoint pen between his teeth.  She notices then that he has a shopping list.  Like, an actual shopping list.  It makes sense, given his attention span, but still.  "I need jam.  Where the hell is that?"  It's directed more to himself than to her, but she points helpfully anyway.

"Jam, huh?" she asks, struggling not to laugh.  "Wouldn't've pegged that one."  Who would've?

"It turns out there are actually kinds that don't, you know, suck," he shrugs.  "As in, not the kind in the little packets you find at hotels.  So... are you actually going to _buy_ cherries, or are you just attempting to impress me with some half-assed juggling?"

She opens her mouth to say something, but she doesn't know what he's talking about.  He quirks an eyebrow and that one corner of his mouth up at once, in what would be a trademark Logan Smirk, if he weren't so much softer around the edges these past several months.  She knows it's easier to pretend that it's really just more of the same.  He knows he's caught her off guard.  He's probably enjoying this, too.  Ass.

It takes her ten seconds too long to realize what he's referring to; without realizing it, she's picked up the same bag of cherries about four times throughout the entire conversation.  And now she _really_ doesn't know what to say.  Annie Lennox croons, _I'm asking you sugar, would I lie to you?_ in the background, not really filling the already awkward silence in any sort of helpful way.

She tries to laugh to cover her obvious embarrassment, but all that ends up coming out is an oddly strangled noise.  It sounds pretty ridiculous, and she'd smack herself in the forehead for it if she were a little less self-conscious at this particular moment.  Also, she's still holding the milk.  Smacking herself in the forehead with a carton of it probably wouldn’t end very well.

"It's just produce," he says in an oddly resigned way.  "No need to get all disturbed about it."  It sounds funny on the surface, but he's not exactly smiling as he says it.

She feels like snapping something back, just to be bitchy, which is, of course, easier than quietly wanting to launch herself at him over a display case of produce in the middle of the supermarket.  Still, Logan is carefully not making eye contact with her again, and she can't quite muster the venom.

She's not sure when they crossed the line, here.  It was relatively friendly until about a minute ago.  The sudden downturn isn't very pleasant.  Neither is the condensation from the milk carton, which she's just realized is creeping its way down to her fingers.

"I'm not the one who takes an hour to pick out five apples," she finally grates out, craving the familiarity of a less emotionally involved form of bickering.  He just shakes his head, swapping the pen he’s got in his mouth from one side to the other.

The air is just starting to feel a little less charged, but then, of course, horrible supermarket music has to intervene, and suddenly The Temptations are filtering out over the loudspeakers and awkwarding everything up again.  She doesn’t even care if that's really even a verb; it is _happening_ right now.

_Maybe you'd like to give me kisses sweet/ Only for one night with no repeat/ Maybe you'd go away and never call/ And a taste of honey is worse than none at all_

She feels slightly nauseous.  A stupid song is not supposed to echo her life like this.  Well… maybe _a_ song could, yes.  But dear God, not _this_ song.  It's too ludicrous.

_In that case I don't want no part/ Well that that would only break my heart_

The look Logan shoots her at this particular moment is actually, physically painful.  She's feeling the strong urge to bolt again.  She actually feels her knees lock, though, so apparently her legs aren't listening to her.  Again.

_Well if you feel like loving me/ If you got the notion/ I second that emotion_

She puts the same bag of cherries back for the now fifth time, just to have something to do with her hands.  Logan is still staring directly at her, and this is _not_ happening.

_Maybe you'll think that love will tie you down/ And you ain't got the time to hang around  
Maybe you think that love will make us fools/ And so it makes you wise to break the rules_

She has a sudden, crazed, half-formed thought that she wishes she could be that girl from the TV show she used to watch after school when she was younger.  The X-Men wannabe with the backwards cap who could turn into liquid, or silvery goo, or whatever.  That would be cool right now.  She just wants to dissolve into the floor.  _Right now._

The chorus comes up again, and the eye contact isn't breaking, and this is not happening in a _supermarket_.  With actual _background music._   She's getting internal dialogue déjà vu already, but she can't help but repeat it.  It's practically become its own desperate mantra now: _This is not happening._

The song is over before she can break her mind out of the loop it's now stuck in, and Logan is the first to look away.  Looking down, he twists the plastic bag of apples around a few times; caps the pen, sticks it in the back pocket of his jeans.  He has a funny look on his face, like he could laugh, but not because this is amusing, exactly.

The milk carton in her right hand slips a little, her whole hand wet now from holding it for too long.  "Um," she starts, looking for the right way to end the oddest and most unsettling conversation she can remember having, ever.

Logan beats her to it, walking around the case before she has a chance to back away, smiling a little sadly to himself, and putting a hand unexpectedly on her shoulder.  She stares at him, not at all sure what to say.  She's so used to having a retort for everything; she really wishes he wouldn't keep catching her off guard like this.

"Take care, Veronica," he says softly, and then he's gone.

It's a long time before she moves again.

 

He's humming quietly to himself, not carrying any particular melody when he opens the door.

He doesn't look surprised to see her, but she thinks she sees a slight glimmer of hope behind his eyes before he thinks better of it and snuffs it quietly out.

He turns around, leaving the door open for her, and walks into the kitchen, humming tunelessly all the while.  Part of her wants him to stop, and part of her doesn't want him to, ever.  It's reminding her of a certain night when she lay sprawled across his lap, almost weightless in her grief, and he hummed softly through the night until exhaustion took its toll.  She'd loved him so acutely then, for being her own soft, secret little something to hear while her world fell steadily apart around her and the shadows grew darker on the walls.

Turning to face her again, he watches her carefully as she shuts the door behind her.  She makes her measured steps that close the distance between them, wishing he'd look at the floor.  That, or maybe the walls, or the cabinets.  The boy has a gift for the piercing stare, and it's not like this moment needs any help in the tension department.  When she still doesn't say anything, he leans back against the countertop, and she almost feels like snapping "Sit down, god dammit!" because Logan knows how to stare, and he knows how to lean.

"I lied," she says simply and without any sort of preamble.  Again, he doesn't look surprised, but he does raise his eyebrows in a manner that silently communicates a somewhat bitter "Shock, shock!" of sorts.  She knows he won't actually say it -- though he normally would, or maybe even something harsher, and he has every right -- because he knows how rarely she's up front with him about… well, anything.

What he does say is, "You're going to have to narrow that down a bit, Mars."  Still a bit harsh, but she deserved that one, too.

She wants to bait him; she wants to be childish and say "Go on, pick a fight!  It's what we’re good at!" but she can see plainly on his face how tired he is of that.&nbsp They may indeed be good at fighting, but she knows he's much better at loving her in that stupidly unconditional way that he does.  She thinks he ought to have some serious conditions.  Conditions like "No more looking for the easy way out," or "No more being such a heartless bitch," or even "No more being afraid of actually _feeling_ something for me, dammit!"  Anything at this point, really, will do.

But no; Logan just stares, and leans, and makes her work for it.

"When I got back from New York," she starts, staring at the floor.  This is hard.  "I told you that I didn't want to go through it all again… that I needed to be on my own, and figure myself out before I was ready to be with you or anyone else."  God, she sounds like Dr. Phil.  She grimaces inwardly at Logan's expression; he's probably thinking the exact same thing.

"The truth is," because she has to keep going; if she stops now, she'll never get this out.  "I don't need to figure myself out.  I think I've got a pretty good handle on me.  And I don't need to figure you out, either.  I know you, better than I like to think I do."  She expects him to object to that, but when she pauses here, all he does is blink a few times, waiting for her to finish.

"I guess I was scared," she says.  She didn't want to admit it, but after those few words she already feels so much better.  "My Dad cared about my Mom too much, I think.  He knew she wasn't faithful, he knew she had a drinking problem, but he stayed with her anyway.  Mostly for me, but I know he still loved her, in a way.  Plus, he's pretty stubborn."  Logan smiles a little, and it feels good to say all this out loud.

"I don't think he wanted to give up.  I can understand that."  He nods a little, still wondering where exactly she's going with this.

"I didn't want to do that with you.  Think of us as something to get through, to try and fix, something to give up on if it got too difficult.  I didn't want to be that kind of person, because it obviously doesn't work.  I needed to figure _this_ out," she finally says, gesturing between them.  "Because I don't just want any relationship…  And it's not just you, I want this to work, too; I _need_ this to work."  Logan is staring so intently at her now, she can't bring herself to look away again.

"I don't just need somebody, I need _you_."  She doesn’t think she's ever been this honest with him before.  Or with herself, really.  His eyes look a bit brighter, and she wants this to be enough.

He looks down at his hands, and she thinks he's probably trying not to show how much he needed to hear this.

"I get that, Veronica," he says suddenly.  "I really do.  But if you didn't figure out that you actually have to _trust_ me before we give this another try?  We're going to have the same problem.  Again."  He sounds so tired, and she feels another spark of guilt.

This time she doesn't even need to think about it.  "I do."  He looks back up with an extremely skeptical expression, and she can't blame him for it.

She wishes she could make him believe her, but she knows she can't.  If she wants this, she's going to have to work for it.  Looking at him now, really grown up and finally on his own in a place where the sun is just now starting to set on the ocean behind him, she's more than aware he's worth it.  It's about damn time she starts working for this.

So she crosses the kitchen, reaches up behind his neck before he can stop her, and holds him as tightly as she can.  Which isn’t saying much, considering the gap in size and strength between them, but Logan puts his arms around her anyway, because he knows her well enough to feel how hard she's trying.

"We're really kind of fucked up, aren't we?" he says into her hair after a long while.  Not the most flattering sentiment for either of them, but at least it's honest.  She can hear the smile in his voice when he says it, besides.

"Just a bit," she laughs into his shirt, the top of her head bumping his chin slightly.  "But you know I love you anyway."

She feels him go very still, and realizes a second too late, _Okay, maybe he didn't exactly know that._   Of course, she hadn't quite admitted that to herself yet, either.

She spends a few horrified moments expecting him to pull away; that he'll think she's lying or taking things too lightly.  Again.  But after several moments of listening to his heart pounding against her cheek and him not saying a word, she understands that he's still waiting for some sign as to whether she really meant it.

She knows he hasn't heard it at all often enough in his life, and so she does the only thing she can; the only thing she wants to do.  She pulls back a little, looks him in the eye and tells him again.  It comes out sounding sure, natural.  She feels so much lighter, having finally said it.

When Logan finally smiles down at her, she feels almost crushed with relief, and the complete weight of just how much she's really missed him.  And when Logan finally kisses her, his hands dwarfing her face in the surprisingly gentle way he always touches her, she can really appreciate that this is it.  This is what it really means, trusting him.  It feels good.

It's a long time before either of them can breathe properly again.

 

Truth be told, she expected him to hold her much tighter, afterwards.

He thinks he hides it well, but she knows, deep down, he still half-expects her to fade away from him without any sort of warning; that he'll open his eyes to find her gone.  She can't blame him for it, what with the number of years she’s spent nursing her fears of any kind of deep attachment to anything or anyone.  In that way, she's truly been his polar opposite; Logan is so open about his extreme need for her, and it's only now she's finally allowing herself to do the same.  What used to frighten her more, though, is when she actually allowed herself to realize she feels the same for him.

Still, she's sure, despite everything they've said tonight, he's still afraid she won't be there in the morning.  She felt it in the resigned way he'd let go of her earlier; saw it in the little hint of sadness behind the afterglow glaze in his eyes.  She can't blame him -- she's always been a runner, and he knows it.  After all, she's spent more time running from him than pretty much anything or anyone else at this point in her life.

She'd like to think they've finally gotten past this, though.  He's tired of fighting; she's tired of running.

She's crossed that line she had drawn between them now, nevertheless, and she doesn't have any plans to cross back again.  All she has left to do is show him that.

But he's surprising her now; he's just draping his arm across her waist, leaving only the soft weight of it against her as he sleeps.  He's not trapping her close and tight to him, silently begging her not to leave -- he really is allowing himself to trust her to stay.  So she closes her eyes and allows herself to revel in it; the feel of the pulse at his wrist thrumming softly against her skin.

She doesn't expect it to be easy, but it's been a while since she's been interested in anything that came easily anyway.  She shifts slightly, and feels his arm squeeze her gently where it still rests across her waist.  She holds him closer, watches the sea go pink as the sun comes up, and she stays.

It's true; it really is a nice view.

 

 

***  *  *  *  ***

**Author's Note:**

> My fourth fic for the VM fandom, and my second attempt at writing from Veronica's perspective. Probably the oddest, and most humorous fic I wrote for this fandom. I had actually written more than half of this, and was in the supermarket one day, wandering around, and both songs came on while I was there, and couldn't help but include them.  
> 
> This fic takes place in my little AU world where no, Logan does _not_ continue living in the ugly, glittery-fish-filled, death trap hole of DOOM that is the Neptune Grand, but instead invests in a beach house. I wasn't the first author to do this, and I certainly I wasn't the last. 
> 
> This was the answering fic to my (first) ficathon assignment. My challenge was: "Two Requests: Veronica and... perhaps some angst? Two Restrictions: No smut and nothing to do with Lilly."


End file.
